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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649338">you won't be alone again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiaghoe/pseuds/peraltiaghoe'>peraltiaghoe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>angsty boyz [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Light Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:41:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiaghoe/pseuds/peraltiaghoe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>title from Taxi by the Maine</p><p> </p><p>  <em>In the backseat of a taxi,</em><br/><em>When you told me we were only,</em><br/><em>Two punch drunk souls all tangled in the wind,</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>And in the backseat,</em><br/><em>When you asked me,</em><br/><em>"Is the sadness everlasting?"</em><br/><em>I pulled you closer,</em><br/><em>Looked at you and said,</em><br/><em>"Love, I think it is."</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jake Peralta &amp; Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>angsty boyz [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you won't be alone again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi! a lil super fast canon divergence that popped into my head when i was listening to Taxi by The Maine last night. i always think of charges &amp; specs when i hear this song, so this jumped out really quick. write over the course of like an hour last night and edited this morning—definitely not as complete as some of my other works, but in any case, i hope you enjoy!</p><p> </p><p>this is assuming that jake had to date somebody while he was undercover to keep up appearances</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a girl here. </p><p>There’s a girl here, and her kisses are harsh. She pushes him against the wall when she kisses him, and she undoes his buttons too fast, and it’s objectively good, but it’s all wrong. She smells like strawberries, and it’s the wrong kind of sweet. The scent burns in his nose even after she leaves. Sometimes she tastes like cigarettes, and it always reminds him of her. </p><p>Amy’s kisses were soft. Her fingers laced with his in the backseat of the taxi that night, and she was so tentative as she leaned into his space. Her lips brushed against his so gently that he almost wasn’t sure if it had been real. She pulled back to look at him, and her deep, dark eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight. The few seconds they spent staring at each other felt like an eternity, but it never felt like it was dragging on. He got lost in the warmth of her brown eyes, and before he knew it, his hands were tipping her face toward his again. </p><p>Her kisses were soft in the back of the cab, and they were soft on the doorstep of his apartment, and they were soft as they stumbled to his bedroom. He should’ve been packing. They both knew that he should’ve been packing, but instead, his hands were busy seeing if he could get her pretty hair to tangle (he’d never seen Amy’s hair tangled in his life and he wasn’t sure it was possible, but he was giving it his best effort). She took the lead, guiding him toward his bed, and if they had more time, he’s sure she would’ve stopped to comment on the comforter on his bed (which <em>could</em> tangle, based on the way it was bunched up in a disorganized heap in the center of his mattress). </p><p>As it was, she pushed him back until he sat at the edge of the bed, taking care not to break their contact as she climbed onto his lap. He groaned softly at the shift, but then his hands were steadying her waist and he was tearing himself away from her. </p><p>“Ames.” He swallowed, his voice soft and sad and just the slightest bit reserved. He needed her—his friend. He was afraid. He was nervous. Somewhere within him, there was excitement tumbling around, but he couldn’t find in that moment. He had her in his arms, and all he wanted was for things to be different. It shouldn’t be happening under these circumstances. </p><p>She smiled softly, a sadness to the gesture that he knew her too well to not see through. Her fingers framed his cheek as she nodded at him. “I know.” </p><p>And then she was kissing him again. The words went unspoken, but they both knew. He was leaving to go undercover in the morning, and as much as neither of them wanted to think about it, there was a chance that he wouldn’t be returning. They didn’t have to keep going, but they also couldn’t guarantee that this wouldn’t be their only chance. So she kissed him again, and he welcomed her. </p><p>Her kisses were soft, and she took her time undoing each of his buttons. She adorned him with her full attention, and he wanted this, had been longing for this, but <em>god</em>, he wished it were happening under different circumstances. His fingers trailed underneath the hem of her shirt, every inch of soft skin he chased making his head that much dizzier with desire. He looked up at her with eyes full of wonder when she pushed him back against the mattress. There was no part of him that thought his day would end with Amy Santiago tossing her bra onto his bedroom floor, but his fingers skimmed against her ribs as she did just that. He could see the trepidation in her movements, that tiny hint of insecurity that left her breath hitching when his eyes traced across her. </p><p>“God, you’re…” He shook his head, his hands tentatively following the curve of her ribs until he was cupping her breasts, his breath coming out in a little huff. “You’re so beautiful.” </p><p>And then his hands were slipping around her waist again, pulling her so that she was lying against his chest. He trailed his palm up her back, and she shivered at the warmth on her cool skin. Her fingers clutched at his hair, and her tongue played against his, and everything about being with her was better than he ever could have imagined—and he’d spent his fair share of time imagining, if he were being honest. </p><p>She smelled like vanilla and mint, and no matter how many combinations of different shampoos and body washes Jake tried, he just couldn’t quite pin down the exact scent. On nights when he misses her bad enough, he swears he can smell it in his dreams. It only makes waking up that much harder, the scent of strawberries that much less appealing. </p><p>He could replay the whole night on a loop, from start to finish. Her eyes in the parking garage, the way she looked at him when <em>romantic stylez</em> fell from his lips. The <em>America needs me!</em> that he silently cursed himself for in the car because <em>what the fuck kind of last words were those?</em> </p><p>The way she opened the door before the driver had a chance to pull away. The shock on his face when she told him to scoot over. The heavy silence that surrounded them as they sat next to each other, two electric inches between them as he replayed every word he said, wondered what exactly this meant. Every soft kiss, each press of her hands, every second that led to her hair splayed out on his pillow, her head nestled against his chest. He ran the back of his knuckles along her cheekbone repeatedly, his eyebrows knit together as he held her close.</p><p>How could it have taken him this long to have finally mustered up the confidence to tell her how he felt? It took all this time, all these moments, and an undercover assignment for him to pull his shit together, and now he only had a few hours with her before he had to leave her for—for who knows how long? </p><p>She must have felt it, because her arms tightened around him. She tunnelled further into his arms, her fingers making their way to rest against his cheek. </p><p>He took a shaky breath. “Ames.” </p><p>She nodded, her voice just as soft and broken as his. “Jake.” </p><p>They held each other that way for hours, all tangled together and quietly absorbing each other. He tried to memorize the feeling of her weight against his chest, the warmth that spread through him when she trailed warm kisses along his jaw. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in that sweet, minty scent until it calmed his nerves and quieted his thoughts. </p><p>He had so much to say, but he couldn’t find the words that would really span the divide that the next day was going to build between them. So instead, he stayed quiet. He stayed quiet until her breathing slowed, then, for good measure, he stayed quiet until she completely relaxed in his arms, all signs of awareness gone. </p><p>Then he pressed his lips to her forehead, his fingers trailing comfortingly through her hair. He can’t remember ever having whispered that quietly in his life. </p><p>“I’m gonna miss you so much, Amy.” He paused for a long time, taking a series of slow, steadying breaths. He breathed her in, held her closer, and leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m gonna miss you so bad.” He nodded to himself. “But it’s gonna be okay.” </p><p>He couldn’t say how long it was before he fell asleep, but he knew that it wasn’t long enough. It never could’ve been long enough. He woke up before her. He woke up to a world where he needed to collect his things and leave the sleeping woman in his arms, and it was the last thing he wanted to do. He gave himself a moment. Her skin was warm against his, and her breathing was soft and rhythmic. It turned out that her hair <em>could</em> tangle—the pretty waves splayed all against his pillow the night before were wild now, twisted around her, but she looked beautiful as ever. He carefully extricated himself from her arms. He moved quickly about his apartment, packing all the necessities in his suitcase and leaving it by the door. </p><p>He crawled back into bed, smiling to himself when she murmured sleepily, reaching for him and groaning at the light peeking through his curtains. He wanted more of this. The world was cruel, because now he had to spend this entire undercover mission, however long it was, <em>knowing</em>. Knowing what it was like to be this close to her, wishing he still was. Knowing what it was like to wake up in her arms, then waking up without her. Knowing what it was like to bury his face in her hair and to be completely overwhelmed by the mint-vanilla combination, only to wake up with <em>strawberry</em> choking all of his senses.</p><p>There’s a girl here, but it isn’t her. </p><p>All he wants is her. </p><p>When he rolls over in the morning, he’s assaulted with the smell of strawberries. It’s stuck in his pillows, and even when he washes his bedding, it lingers. </p><p>He misses her. </p><p>He hopes she’s doing okay. Better than him, at least. He hopes she’s happy. </p><p>It’s almost been six months, and he hasn’t heard her voice. He hasn’t seen her roll her eyes at him with just a hint of a grin gracing her lips. He hasn’t made her laugh, or annoyed her, or kissed her. </p><p>All he’s done is miss her. </p><p>He doesn’t know what things will be like when he goes back. </p><p>Maybe that night meant nothing to her. It would be fine if that were the case. Maybe she was worried about her friend, and she was overwhelmed with emotion, and she was clinging to something familiar in a moment of change. They didn’t have time to talk it all over. They didn’t talk about what it meant, or what the future might look like between them, or even <em>Teddy</em>. </p><p>He hopes. </p><p>He hopes that things will be normal between them. He hopes it’s a new normal, where he can wake up with her hair across his shoulder and kiss her face as her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, a familiar smile on her lips. </p><p>He hopes that she’s okay. </p><p>He didn’t know what he was getting into that night, when he slid over to make room for her in the backseat of a taxi. </p><p>Things aren’t always safe here. He hopes he doesn’t have to live the rest of his life with this feeling. He assures himself that he won’t—but there are nights when he can’t push the dread away. </p><p>The future is uncertain. He knows that she’s probably moving on without him back in their real lives. Part of him hopes she is. As long as he can make it home to see her, he doesn’t care. And if she lets him, he'll make sure that she never has to be alone again. He'll make sure that she never has to feel the way that he feels right now.</p><p>And god, he hopes she still smells like vanilla and mint.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a few people requested a follow up companion piece, so here it is ¨̮ https://archiveofourown.org/works/26104978</p><p>(it's also just the next piece of the series ¨̮)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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